


Let's Talk About Parks

by notsugarandspice



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Parks and Recreation, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Age Difference, Benchie, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Multi, Parks & Rec AU, Reddie, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Stanlon - Freeform, Stranger Things Crossover, a mess, at the beginning though, there are some endgame couples here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsugarandspice/pseuds/notsugarandspice
Summary: It's hard to rule the world from Derry, Maine.





	1. The Pit

“Lucas, how many people are here exactly?"

"Obviously not enough to fill this auditorium. What were you thinking anyway?"

Mike couldn't believe that anyone showed up. It was his very first Community Outreach Public Forum. Sure, he has attended some before, but he was too young to lead one until now. Since he now had access to that responsibility, Mike was just grateful to have someone there with him. Willingly, or not.

He liked Lucas, he really did, but the guy could be a little... self-centered. And Mike thought he seemed too disinterested for someone who's working in a Parks and Recreation department.  _I mean, it's not fucking Washington, but it’s a government job nonetheless_. Lucas should be grateful. Jim finally asked him to run the meeting, and whether Lucas liked it or not, he was going to help out.

Emerson Elementary School seemed larger when you had to speak in front of dozens of people. But it's all good.  _I love my job, I love my job, I love my job._

"Thank you so much for coming! What an amazing turnout," said Mike, speaking breathily but enthusiastically into the microphone. His old suit hugged the shoulders too tightly, and Mike instantly wished he was curled up in his office chair, doing the overnight paperwork.

Lucas was sitting on the chair next to him, slumped so much that his feet almost dangled off the stage.

"My name is-"

Mike didn't get to finish introducing himself because, all of a sudden, the lights went off and the auditorium turned pitch black apart from the light coming through the small window at the exit door. Without hesitation and before anyone had the chance to bolt, Mike nudged Lucas’ shoulder, and the other rolled his eyes in understanding.

They changed the location to a small classroom on the other side of the building, cramming a couple of dozen people in the small space. But Mike was content.  _I'm having my Outreach meeting, dammit._

"I'm Mike Hanlon, and with me is department member Lucas Sinclair,” said Mike and nudged the other in the arm. Lucas weakly waved and stayed slumped in his seat.

"We are here to answer all of your questions," said Mike enthusiastically, fidgeting his polished shoes on the floor from anticipation.

A grey-haired male stood up swiftly. "Well, it's a great day, because last month they put me in jail." The room grew dead silent, and everyone looked left and right.  _What the actual FUCK._

"That's right! The head of the police is a ninth degree asshat-"

It didn't end there.

"STOP THE GRAFFITI, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-"

Mike sighed heavily. "Sir, I don't like obscenities in front of children either-"

"Look, I've got my three-year-old, and we're going through the park, and someone's like 'Hey, dick! Suck my cock!' and the other guy goes 'You suck my cock, you dickhead!"

Lucas’ stifled snickers were bouncing off the walls of the small room.

_Michael, they just LOUDLY care about their community. In and out. In. And. Out._

"Alright, does anyone else who hasn't spoken yet want to voice their concern?" asked Mike, interrupting the ex-con who was about to start yapping again.

"I-I would!" exclaimed a handsome white male, standing up from the small chair. Mike nodded encouragingly.

"Hi. I'm... Um... I'm Ben Hanscom. Honestly, I don't care much for politics-" Loud clapping erupted throughout the room. Ben patiently waited for it to die down. "I'm here to talk about the abandoned lot on Sullivan Street."

Mike instantly piped up. "That sounds like a great idea!"

"Um, no. It's a problem. My boyfriend almost died there." Mike’s face instantly fell.

"There's a lot right next to my house. Someone dug it up for some new condos, went bankrupt, and now it's nothing but a giant pit that's been there for almost a year."

Mike nodded in understanding.

"My boyfriend, he's a musician, um, I support him, he fell in and broke both his legs."

“Ben, let me ask you something. This boyfriend of yours who fell into the pit, are you two serious? Like, do you live together or what's going on there?" asked Lucas suddenly and Mike had to fight an urge to strangle him.

"Um, yeah," answered Ben, thoroughly confused.

"I'm sure it's super tough on you. If you feel like you need to move on, I could give you my number and counsel you, you know, through these tough times."

Ben blinked for a couple of seconds and then continued. "Look, I complained about this pit countlessly, and nobody has done anything. YOU need to do something about it!" Another round of applause erupted in the room.

Mike felt his heart thundering wildly in his chest. "Okay. I will help you. I'll do it."

"Is that a promise?" asked Ben, folding his arms.

"Oh, it's a pinky promise. To all of you, that the ugly pit will become the most beautiful damn park in Indiana." Mike put on his most dashing smile, keeping eye contact with Ben’s bright green eyes.

* * *

"Babe, can you please clean up? Those people from the City Hall are coming over," said Ben, pointing at the mess on and around Richie's lap.

Richie handed him the empty beer bottle without looking, too occupied with the TV and an open Cheetos bag in his lap.

Ben went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, but before he had a chance to press the button, a doorbell rang.

"DOORBELL!" Richie's scream rang through the room.

"For fuck's sake, Rich, I heard it."

Ben opened the door to reveal the attractive dark-skinned man again, in the company of two others. One man from last night who kept up the ridiculous flirting, and another, with some weird dark liner underneath, dressed in a cardigan and dark jeans, all grumpy attitude and disinterest.

"Hi, Ben! This is Lucas and Eddie. Eddie is our college intern. He's going to document our conversation if that's okay."

"Um, sure. Whatever you guys need. I'm just gonna grab my phone."

Ben went towards the bedroom, and Mike helped himself in, followed by Lucas and Eddie, both of them carrying solemn expressions on their faces.

"Whoa, this must be the man of the hour!” exclaimed Mike upon seeing a tall, dark-haired man sprawled on the couch, two casts resting on the coffee table.

"I'm Mike Hanlon, it's so nice to meet you." Mike extended his hand for the stranger to shake.

The man took one hand out of the top of the cast, wiped it on his shirt and extended it to Mike, smiling ear to ear. "Hi-ya.  _Me llamo_ Richie Rich. Could you pass me my itch stick?" asked the man, pointing towards the piece of wood trapped between beer bottles on the coffee table.

Mike blinked a couple of times. "Uh, sure." He reached out to the piece hesitantly and handed it to the man.

Richie started scratching underneath, making inappropriate moaning and groaning sounds. Eddie snorted loudly, coming further into the house, peeking over Mike’s shoulder.

When Ben came back, they all went outside, positioning themselves right next to the edge of the pit Richie fell in.

"That's the spot," said Ben, standing with hands on his hips, squinting through the morning sun.

"Damn," exhaled Mike. "This place has so much potential. I mean, imagine a swimming pool, a tennis court, basketball court, a Ferris wheel, bowling alley-"

"Um, this pit is not that fucking big, man,” said Ben raising his eyebrows.

Mike did a double back but quickly recovered. "Okay, Eddie, document this," said Mike walking towards the edge.

Eddie pulled out his phone and started filming, a playful smile on his face.

“What are you-“ Ben started but saw that the man has a hard hat on, and seemed to know what he’s doing. He folded the hands in front of himself and tried not to panic.

"In order to assess the damage done to the skinny one back there, I need to get straight into the belly of the beast," said Mike, crawling backwards towards the slope.

Lucas and Ben stared at him incredulously, and Eddie kept smiling mischievously.

"OH, FUCK!" Before Mike got a chance to slide down easily, he tumbled down the slope, arms flailing wildly and clothes filling with gravel and dirt.

* * *

Next thing he knows, Mike is sitting on the couch next to Richie who is too occupied playing video games to notice his awakening. Ben suddenly appears on the side handing him a bottle of water and some Advil. Mike lets his eyes rake over the man’s scrubs.  _Fuck, I forgot he's a nurse._

"Oh. Thank you," said Mike straightening a little and taking the bottle with pills.

"It's alright, don't worry about it. I do have a shift in twenty minutes though. Do you want me to drop you off on the way home?"

Mike lifted his head and turned around, seeing Eddie and Lucas laugh maniacally over something on Eddie's phone, glancing in his direction occasionally. Mike furrowed his brows and stood up slowly, grabbing onto the falling compress, no longer cold.

"Nah, it's alright. Those two will give me a ride. So, do you want to come to my office tomorrow to talk about this? I think we really do have a shot there."

"Yeah, okay. Um, we could try."

“Good.” Mike stretched his neck to the side, feeling the stiffness there. “Do you have something like a neck brace?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, one of those things you wear when you break a clavicle or something, like a cast for the neck?”

“Honestly, you didn’t break anything,” said Ben and walked towards the kitchen to grab his coffee to-go.

“ _Honestly_ , it fucking hurts,” muttered Mike and started carefully walking towards the front door.

* * *

“Is that a travel pillow around your neck?” asked Jim, looking at Mike with a blank expression.

“Okay, irrelevant. You’d understand if you’ve been down at the pit. Have you, Jim?”

“No, can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Well,  _I_ have.”

“When you fell in.”

“When I  _visited_ the place where Richard Tozier lost the function of both of his legs,” said Mike, putting several photographs of his unconscious body at the bottom of the pit in front of Hopper. “I want this subcommittee. You won’t find anyone else more devoted to this.”

Jim looked at the photos in mild amusement, folding his arms on the stomach.

“Michael, you know me well. Do you realize that I don’t want this department to build  _anything_ because the government is a big sham?”

Mike looked at his boss with eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in shock.

“If I ever want to see this department privatized for the benefit of large corporations, I can’t have you planning something equally big.”

Mike closed his eyes for several seconds, regaining composure. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that. Can you promise to at least think about this?”

Jim looked at his employee with slight irritation but eventually sighed, leaning on the table. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Mike instantly beamed and bolted towards the door. “Leaving before you change your mind!”

“I didn’t say-“

* * *

 

“This mural is one of the more gruesome ones. It’s so bad that we have to put advertisement posters on top to make sure that children can visit,” said Mike, pointing at one of the largest murals in City Hall, coffee in hand.

“That sounds-“

“Awesome?”  
“-horrible,” said Ben, cringing at the painted blood that’s still visible from the corner of a rather small poster.

Mike whipped his head around when he heard the approaching clinking of male dressing shoes. Lucas was jogging towards them at a leisurely pace, a satisfied smile dancing around his features.

“Mike, you won’t believe it. Hop approved the committee!” Lucas clapped Mike on the back, and the other beamed at Ben, shaking his free hand in excitement.

“We should celebrate!” exclaimed Mike, dragging all of them back to the Parks and Recreation office.

It hadn’t even been an hour, and everyone was already tipsy from cheap champagne and full of sour cream and onion chips that Mike kept under his table for special occasions. He found himself chatting with Ben who enthusiastically sipped on the glass, more relaxed and open than Mike had ever seen him.

“Man, I’m barely in mid-thirties, and I already landed a subcommittee. I’m an unstoppable force of progress!”

“You know what, you’re like the first government person who makes me believe in democracy,” said Ben, slightly hiccuping from the bubbles.

“Yeah? Well, it’s a promise that this is getting done. We’re in America, baby! The land of cute guys and rapid growth.”

“And I promise to help get that godforsaken pit filled in, even if it takes a couple of months.”

“Whoo!” exclaimed Mike, clinking their plastic glasses and spilling some champagne into his lap. Neither of them noticed.

* * *

 

“Dude, Mike is the most ridiculous drunk you’ve ever seen.”

“How come?” asked Eddie, confidently pouring some champagne into his coffee cup.

“Every single time we have these gatherings, he gets hammered from zero to none liquor. He’s the biggest lightweight,” said Lucas and made his way back to Mike, pouring more champagne into his glass, gesturing for Eddie to look.

“Have you ever forced him to do something stupid?” asked Eddie when Lucas finally made his way back.

“Oh, this one time, a water delivery girl came by and I dared Mike to kiss her. It was hilarious, and he denies it to this day.”

Eddie snorted into the mug and nodded for more champagne.


	2. Canvassing

Mike nervously peeked into the door, his hands already sweaty and shaky. Will Hanlon sat behind his desk, glasses perched on the very end of a long nose, scribbling through the array of paperwork in front of him. The familiar coffee scent made Mike’s heart clench.

“Mikey, either make your way into the room or keep walking, I have too much work to do.”

Mike’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, and he quickly adjusted the tie before stepping into Will’s office.

“Just came here to chat. You know, how people usually talk and-“

“Did you need anything?” Will’s smile was warm but held the tiniest bit of irritation in it.

“No, but I might as well say it since I ended up at your office.”

Will nodded and took a sip of his coffee, leaning back into the large leather chair.

“I kinda landed this small subcommittee last week,” said Mike, shrugging the shoulders to indicate that it’s no big of a deal.  _Except it so fucking is._

Will Hanlon’s lips changed into an impressed expression, but he stayed otherwise composed.

“I mean, I’m sure the word has gone around… I’ve heart someone whisper in the hallway-“

Will shook his head side to side in denial.

“Anyway, there’s going to be a town hall meeting at the Smith’s Community Center at seven, so you know, no big deal-“

“Mike-“

“Well, it  _is_ a big deal since I’m leading it but-“

“You know how busy I am, kiddo.” Mike’s face fell instantly.  
“Right.” He tried to imitate a warm smile, but it probably looked strained.

Will sighed deeply and placed the mug back on the table, crossing the fingers on top of the paperwork. “I’ll try to be there.”

* * *

 

“Alrighty, let’s get started,” said Mike, slamming the wooden gavel on the metal table of the courtyard.

Ben winced at the loud sound.

“Sorry. Anyway, is this committee ready for tomorrow night?”

“I booked the hall,” said Lucas, adjusting a pin on his blue polo.

“Awesome,” Mike high-fived Lucas, “Ben, will you be able to make it?”

“Yeah, had to change my shift but it’s all good.” Ben smiled brightly and then frowned at Eddie who was staring daggers at the crow.

“Okay, we have one last thing to do before the event. The only way to attract the right amount of attention is canvassing.”

 

Lucas rolled his eyes and breathed out in irritation.

Mike forced everyone to make their way back to the pit to refresh the memory of how important the upcoming project is. He needed everyone to see that this park is the future of Pawnee.

“Alright, I have some sunscreen here-“ Mike didn’t get to finish the sentence because Eddie snatched two full bottles, stuffing them both in his oversized fanny pack.

“Okay, this is the script we’re going to use to speak to people.” Mike handed everyone a large folder, titled  _Pit Canvassing._

“If a person is a man, flip to page two?” asked Lucas from behind his large black sunglasses.

“Ben and I are going to team up, Lucas and Eddie - you’re going separately. The split sectors are shown on the first page of the binder. Alright, let’s rock this!” exclaimed Mike, reaching out to give Ben an enthusiastic high-five.

“Rock what?” asked Eddie, squeezing a huge amount of sunscreen in his palm.

“Go!” Mike bolted to the nearest house, holding a folder close to his chest.

* * *

 

“Oh my God, there’s someone in there! You excited?”

Ben squeezed the folder closer to him, his head going a thousand miles a minute. “Sure, I’m ready.”

“Just stay humble, but sort of confident too.”

Ben didn’t get to ask what that meant when the door opened to reveal a pleasant middle-aged woman.

“Good morning! We represent your local government. Do you have a second to speak with us about the pit on Sullivan Street?”

“Sure.” The woman crossed her arms, seemingly intrigued by the idea.

“Awesome. A positive response-“ muttered Mike, searching for the right way to continue the conversation in his binder.

“Will you be pleased to know that we are planning on turning this pit into a beautiful park?”

The woman beamed. “I think that’s an amazing idea!”

Ben squealed slightly. “That’s great! I actually live right next to it. My boyfriend fell -“

Mike nudged him in the shoulder and flipped the pages to direct him to the right response.

“Oh, um. We’re going to have a meeting tomorrow night, and we’d love to have your support on the matter.”

“Tomorrow? Unfortunately, I’m very busy, sorry.”

“Oh, ma’am, we know that people are busy, but we really need you to be-“

The woman backed up and started closing the door. “Good luck. I can’t wait to see that park!”

Ben started feverishly reading. “Would it change your mind if-“

The door closed and Mike sighed defeatedly. “Aaaand, she’s gone.”

* * *

 

“A park? Sounds great, actually.”

“Are you available tomorrow to come to the town meeting and voice your strong support?” asked Lucas.

“Of course! Are you planning on building things for the children? Like a playground, monkey bars, and stuff?”

“How old are your kids?” asked Lucas, jotting the notes down in the folder.

“I don’t have any,” said the man nonchalantly, eyeing Eddie who was playing Candy Crush.

“Uh-oh.”

“I’m putting him down as a yes,” said Eddie, reaching for the folder that he put on the sidewalk.

Lucas slapped his hand away. “Please don’t do that.”

“Do you know if the park is about one thousand feet from my house? I  _really_ don’t want to move again.”

“Eddie, please stay behind me,” said Lucas, moving to stand in front of the oblivious small boy. “That’s it, you’re free to go, sir.”

“A flyer?”

“Don’t have any.”

“Alright. Thank you.” The man started walking away, his eyes not leaving Eddie’s who was close to laughing at that point.

“Wow, this is just great. Nothing better than canvassing.”

* * *

 

“It’s a great idea. But I’m just not sure.”

“Alright. What about, sir?” asked Ben, trying to stay calm at the mindless conversation they’ve been having with the elderly man.

“Turning the pit into the park.”

“That’s… the whole thing,” said Ben, looking over at Mike who was sporting a blank expression.

 

“Look, I think this is a good idea, but I don’t have a babysitter, sorry,” said a middle-aged woman, running to make it back inside the house.

“How old are your kids?” asked Mike loudly.

“Four and two.”

“Can the four-year-old watch the two-year-old?”

“Alright,” said Ben, grabbing Mike by the sleeve and dragging him to the sidewalk.

 

“Hey, I’m exhausted, it’s hot, and I’m really hungry,” said Ben, reaching out for Mike who’s walking towards yet another house with determination.

Mike turned around, squinting at Ben from the blazing midday sun. “It is kind of hot, isn’t it? Want to blow on each other’s faces?”

Mike started puckering his lips, and Ben put a hand between them. “We can just go to my house and drink some water.”

“Alright. I didn’t want things to come to this, but I think you have to open the sealed envelope,” said Mike, dragging a package from the middle of the folder.

Ben eyed Mike suspiciously and started reading questions from the page. “ _Wouldn’t you rather have a beautiful park or a facility for nuclear waste?_  What is this?”

“There are questions designed to elicit a positive answer.”

“Mike, these are horrible.”

“Let’s just give it a shot.”

 

“Wouldn’t you say, like most decent Americans, that the abandoned lot on Sullivan Street would look much better as a community park?”

“Oh, no. I don’t really like parks. The barbecue smells, and the noise are unbearable,” said a middle-aged woman, distractedly eyeing her daughter.

“Would you change your mind if I told you nine out of ten cocaine users said the same thing?”

“Where did you get these statistics?”

“Mike-“

“Survey? We, um… survey drug users for-“

“We’re going to have a town meeting tomorrow night if you want to come,” said Ben, nudging Mike with his elbow.

“Yes, I’d like to come since I’m really not into this idea. Do you have a flyer?”

Ben handed the woman a flyer, noticing how much Mike tensed up at her confession, a trail of sweat visible on his temple.

“You don’t care about your children if you don’t support this park,” muttered Mike, suddenly interested in his shoes.

“Excuse me?”

Ben started to walk away from the house, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Kids love parks and you should to,” said Mike, avoiding the woman’s eyes.

“Oh, so if I don’t support your pity project then I don’t love my child? What time is that meeting again?”

“It’s next month, don’t worry about it-“

“Ah, tomorrow night,” said the woman, checking over the flyer. “I’ll be there.” She gave Mike a cold look and quickly walked towards her front door.

_Just as things start to finally get better._ Mike walked over to where Ben was standing by the road, staring into the distance.

“People have been so rude. They should see Richie’s medical bills.”

_Bingo._ “Oh my God!” exclaimed Mike, clapping Ben on the back. “Richie is all we need! We’re going to wheel that skinny thing around to elicit sympathy.”

 

Both made it back to Ben’s house to pick up Richie. As soon as they stepped into the living room, Mike finally heard Richie’s bellowing voice singing to the lyrics of a  _Guitar Hero_ song, Eddie sitting next to him on the couch playing drums, and Lucas playing the guitar standing up, his head bobbing to the beat.

“MY CAR IS IN THE FRONT YARD-“

Eddie noticed Ben standing in the doorway with Mike and hit the top of Richie’s head with a drumstick. Richie screamed, but his face quickly fell when he saw his boyfriend’s blank expression and the disappointment on the other’s face. Lucas continued playing alone, eyes closed, completely oblivious. Mike threw the binder on the floor loudly and strode towards the kitchen to search for whipped cream. The guitar flew out of Lucas’ hands, hanging off his neck painfully.

* * *

 

“Michael. How was canvassing?” Mike stepped into Hopper’s office, his demeanor reminding him of the conversation he had with his father earlier.

“It was okay. But I think we need to postpone the meeting.”

“Postpone?”

“Yeah, maybe one to ninety days or something.” Mike visibly swallowed, failing to avoid catching Jim’s eyes.

“No, you’re doing the town meeting. I gave you my full support. I had a conversation with the city manager earlier, and we came to a conclusion that your great project needs to be fast-tracked.”

“I’m sorry, city manager?” asked Mike, feeling his heart thud loudly against his ribs. “I have to cancel this meeting,” he muttered quietly, already planning on sabotaging the electricity of the building.

“I’m relying on you, Hanlon. Do a good job tomorrow, alright?”

“Sure. Whatever. Done-zo. You know me.” Mike’s breathing was picking up at record speed.

“Are you sweating through your suit?”

Mike looked down to the side and saw a wet stain around the armpit area of the grey jacket. He cleared his throat and quickly exited Jim’s office in embarrassment.

* * *

 

“Mike, come here!” screamed Lucas, grabbing Mike by the arm as he was running towards the stage. “I want to introduce you to Victor Miles, the top sod guy in Indiana.”

“Terrific,” said Mike with a strained smile and released Lucas’ grip to keep walking towards the stage.

He was already so nervous that he couldn’t eat the whole day, and his suit felt too stifling, even though the room was well-conditioned. As he got behind the large blue curtains, he saw that Ben was already there.  
“Ugh, I’m so glad you’re here.” Mike hugged Ben and was surprised to see Richie standing by the table where Eddie was sitting and playing a game on his phone again. “Oh, hey, didn’t know you’re coming.”

“Yeah, I have a lot of stage experience.”

“He’s here for support,” said Ben, giving Richie a stern look.

“Eddie, I need you in the audience.” Eddie didn’t acknowledge Mike’s words. “Eddie!”

The boy looked up and rolled his eyes. Richie snatched the phone from his hands to continue the game. “What?”

“If the questions are going to get harsh, I need you to butt in and sell the shit out of that park, you hear? Can you do that?”

“Why?”

Mike quickly made his way to Eddie and leaned on the table in front of him, grabbing his hands. “Eddie, this is serious. Can you?”

“Probably.” Mike awkwardly hugged him and made his way back to Ben. Eddie stood up and snatched the phone back from Richie, and ran away before the other can catch up with his crutches.

 

“Thank you all so much for making it here. This is the first town meeting dedicated to this project. There were many passionate supporters who were, unfortunately, unable to be here tonight. But they totally exist.”

A woman in a blue cardigan raised her hand and started walking towards the microphone in front of the stage.

“No, oh no, no questions right now-“

“My name is Kate Speevack-“

“I remember you-“

“-I live in the neighborhood where this park is planning to be built. And I’m one hundred percent against this. I honestly cannot believe that the department hasn’t even done  _one_  environmental impact study. If anyone agrees, let’s take a stand!” Applause erupted in the hall, and Kate smugly looked at Mike, taking a seat in the audience.

“I have a comment if that’s alright,” said a middle-aged man who stood up as soon as everyone quieted down.

“Sure, I -“

“It’s for the guy in a cast-“

“Oh, here we go, Lawrence,” said Richie from his seat on the stage, letting his head fall backwards in annoyance.

“That is Richard Tozier who actually fell into the pit-“

“I don’t care about any of that. He plays music all night in his garage, and it drives me nuts.”

“Lawrence, you literally live with your grandma-“

“It’s loud and abusive, and I’m sick of it! It wakes up my birds!”

“I’m sorry, did you say you have birds now?” asked Richie with a smug expression on his face.

“You heard me. They’re nice and pretty, and your music wakes them up!”

“I play Rock & Roll, guilty as charged. I’m in a band. It’s called  _Just The Tip._ Actually, does anyone here play bass? We need a bassist.”

“Alright, why don’t we take a five-minute break?” asked Mike, stepping off the stage.

He was chugging on some  _Gatorade_ when Hopper made his way backstage, brows furrowed. “This isn’t going well at all.”

“This is a democracy. People want to talk. At least there’s no apathy.”

“Right. Just pure negativity. You have to turn this positive, and avoid a vote by any means necessary.” Jim clapped him on the shoulder hard and made his way back to the audience.

“I’m kinda into Kate Speevack,” said Lucas from his seat next to Mike.

“God.”

 

“Before we continue, I’d like to give you the background of Pawnee’s history. The city of Pawnee was incorporated in the year of 1817 by a young reverend Luther Howell who came on an ox and planted a flag in the ground and was soon after met by an angry tribe of Wamapoke Indians. Upon seeing the whiteness of his skin, they twisted him to death. In 1969, a man walked on the moon. Pawnee, on the other hand, is full of hippies-“

Mike knew that if he filibustered his own meeting, at the very least Kate  _fucking_ Speevack will keep her trap shut, and his project will be protected from her vicious outbursts.

“I see future Pawnee full of flying taxis, and people communicating through blinking at each other and hearing one another’s thoughts. And now I’d like to read you a couple of my personal favorite verses from the book  _The Phantom Tollbooth-“_

“Can’t you read books on your own time?” asked Kate, slumped in her chair with an irritated expression on her pinched face.

“I have the floor!” screamed Mike, breathing in sharply to regain composure. “ _There once was a boy named Milo who didn’t know what to do with himself. Not just sometimes, but always-_ “

“You know what, this is a public forum, so  _we_ get to tell you what we think, okay?” exclaimed Speevack, successfully waking everyone up from their daze.

“You  _did_ already talk, ma’am. I would love to hear someone else speak. Like someone I don’t know.” Mike closed his eyes and pretended to point at a random person. “That brown haired boy over there in a yellow shirt.”

Eddie stood up and made his way to the microphone. “Hi. I’m a youth in the community, and I love the idea of the park. I fully support it, and I think everyone else should too.”

“Hey! I know him!” exclaimed Lawrence, standing up and pointing his finger at Eddie. “That kid came to my door yesterday.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and made his way back to the seat.

“Oh my God, you seriously planted people in the audience?” asked Kate, standing up in frustration. “I think everyone here agrees that this park is a horrible idea, let’s just take a vote!”

Mike nervously gazed over at Hopper who was already making his way to the exit door. “Okay, we will take a vote, but first I’d like to hear everyone’s opinion on this. All of you, line up behind the microphone and spill it all out.”

Mike has never felt worse in his entire life. The meeting that was supposed to be a turning point in his career turned into a nightmare. He was screamed at by people younger than him, who made absolutely no sense in their complaints. His dad was sitting in the front row, chatting away with someone from DMV, completely ignoring the entire meeting. All he wanted was a successful continuation of his project, but it seems like he is the only person in the room who wants the best for his community.

“I just want to know how long it’s going to take-“

Mike watched the clock strike exactly nine o’clock, and he slammed a small gavel on the table loudly. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, the meeting is over.”  
“Excuse me? How about the vote?” asked Kate, standing up.

“Maybe next forum. Thank you all so much for coming and showing your support!” Mike put on a fake smile and saw people standing up from their chairs grumpy, everyone grabbing the food on the way out.

He sat down on the edge of the stage, hanging his head low.

“Hey, park dude!” Mike lifted his head and saw Lawrence standing by the exit with a handful of brownies. “You suck.”

“Called me park dude,” murmured Mike, smiling warmly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: creamy-brown-eyes


	3. Reporter

“Okay, s-so a plant like this is n-not safe to eat,” says Bill, bending down to indicate the pointed leaves in the grass.

Mike is trailing close behind a small crowd of 12 year-olds who seem mildly fascinated by the trip. He loves promoting educational programs for the youth, even though he can see the distaste in their eyes. Mike put Bill in charge of preteen nature hikes because he always enjoys being outside, and seems great with kids, mostly from having many of his own. He shudders remembering the day one teenage girl got pregnant when a young department representative led the program, and he had to deal with the psychotic outbreak of the mother.

“The spiky ones are p-pah-poisonous and can cause a lot of p-pain if consumed. And this,” Bill sits back on his heels and rips out a pleasant looking plant, “is Country Honeysuckle.”

“Wow,” says Mike, taking the tiny leaf from Bill’s hand.

“It s-smells nice.”

“Oh, yeah! Smells amazing,” says Mike and puts the plant in his mouth without hesitation. The bitterness instantly invades his taste buds, and he can feel the tip of his mouth numbing. “Oh! Ew-“

“Mike, d-duh-don’t eat that!” Bill grabs the corner of the leaf sticking from Mike’s mouth and throws it on the ground.

“Why did you let me eat that?!”

“I never told you t-to eat it!” Mike can hear the children stifle giggles while he feels his tongue getting caught between the teeth. “Mike, everyone knows not t-t-to eat the Country Honeysuckle, did you listen to anything I’ve said?”

“I can’t feel my tongue-“ Mike starts tugging on it, and doesn’t feel the touch of his fingers.

“Jesus, don’t t-touch it, and stop s-scaring the kids-“ Bill leads Mike away towards the car and gives him a bottle of water to wash the taste off. Mike sighs in defeat and watches the children continue the hike.

*

“Ben!” Mike beams when he sees his friend waltz into the Parks and Recreation office, looking adorable in a white sweater and blue scrubs. “I have amazing news. I asked a reporter to write an article about the pit.”

Ben sits down on the chair in front of Mike’s desk and smiles reassuringly. “Hey, that sounds great.”

“Right? The press is a weapon. You can either use it to kill people or feed them.”

Ben tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“You know, when you start off with large projects like these, press exposure is very important. It’s the momentum that keeps it alive. Do you remember the graffiti project last year?”

“Oh, the one with penises at Tucker Park.”

“The lack of funding didn’t let us remove more than five. I’m  _still_ haunted by the remaining penises.” Mike looks off to the distance in horror. “One penis in particular.”

He ushers Ben to the conference room and invites Lucas to join them in preparation of the reporter’s arrival.

“Okay, I need everyone to be on their best behavior when she gets here. Please stay on message and don’t stray away from our main goal - promoting the filling of the pit, and turning it into a park.”

*

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Hanlon.” Eddie raises his head from a  _Seventeen_ magazine and gives the blond woman a blank stare.

“Okay.”

The guest looks at Eddie weirdly, but before he has the chance to say anything, Mike runs out of the conference room. “My ears are ringing!”

“Hi.”

Hanlon makes his way to the entrance and reaches out to shake the reporter’s hand. “I’m Mike Hanlon, the deputy director of Parks and Recreation.”

“Greta-“

“Bowie, yes. I’m a fan of your work. I’ve read everything you’ve ever written. Your article on raccoon problem in Pawnee is definitely your best work. Nature’s bandits,” says Mike and beams at Greta.

“Thanks!”

“Do you want to take a quick tour before we get started?”

“Oh, I’ve been here before several times.”

Mike pauses for a second, astounded. “Quick tour?”

Greta clears her throat and forces a smile. “Okay.”

He steps back and walks further into the office, folder in hand. “This is Jim Hopper, our boss. Jim, this is the reporter I told you about.”

Jim comes in closer and clenches his jaw irritably, the grip on the coffee mug stronger than necessary. “No comment.”

Greta looks between Mike and Jim. “About what?”

Hopper ignores the reporter and turns towards the door of Hanlon’s office. “Hey, Sinclair! Maybe one day you’ll figure out how to spell a word with three letters in it.”

“C’mon, Jim.” Lucas smiles mischievously and shrugs.

Mike rolls his eyes and remembers that Sinclair has been trying to be a kiss-ass for  _weeks_ now. He somehow convinced Jim to play online Scrabble, and they’ve been at it for hours at work. Mike doesn’t know how to put a stop to it.

“Alright, Greta, follow me.” They step into the conference room where everyone is still situated, and Eddie slips behind Mike to step in with a small notebook. “Well, this is our team.”

“Hi everyone,” says Greta with a noticeable lack of interest, surveying the small space like a hawk.

“Lucas Sinclair, boy genius. Smooth like chocolate.”

Lucas furrows his brows. “That’s a weird way to describe me.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak, nineteen. Cool enough to be anywhere and chooses to be here.” Eddie looks up from flipping through a magazine with a blank expression, his eyes magnified by the dark eyeliner.

“And this is, of course, Ben Hanscom and Richie Tozier, the real heroes of the story.” Ben shyly waves to Greta. “Ben is the citizen who brought the pit to our attention, and Richie is the citizen who gracefully fell in it.” Mike points to the two casts on Tozier’s legs.

“Well, why don’t we get started?” asks Greta and positions herself next to Ben, taking out the tape recorder. “I need to record this, that’s okay with you?”

Mike sits down on the opposite side, and his heart starts jackhammering in the middle of the chest. He  _hates_ interviews, hates when his own words can be used against him because sometimes, he can’t control what comes out of it. And now there is a tape recorder sitting right in front of him like a taunting menace that wants to destroy his career.

“Um… Sure. That way it’s v-verbatim.” He can already feel his body temperature go up rapidly.

“Mike, are you in charge of the committee?” Greta starts scrambling a question on the page without looking up.

Mike looks nervously between the recorder and Ms. Bowie and presses the pause button quickly. “Well, um, it’s called a sub committee, actually-“

“We can do this on tape,” says Greta with a sickly smile, and releases the button. “Is this your meeting place?”

Mike feels his heart beat pick up again and he swiftly presses the pause button once more.

“Really?-“

“We don’t have a specific meeting place. We meet everywhere, and um, anywhere.”

“Alright, Mike, why don’t I ask the citizens a couple of questions first and then get back to you?”

Mike looks at Ben and at his reassuring smile nods and heads towards the office taking off his suit jacket on the way there. Once he gets to the table, he takes one of the folders and fans them over his underarms that are unnaturally soaked.

*

“Richie, why don’t you tell me about the night you fell into the pit?”

“I mean, it’s a pretty cool story. I just finished practicing with my band-“ Richie takes the tape recorder and put it close to his mouth, “- _Three Skin,_ formerly  _Foreskin,_ but that one didn’t stick because our bassist quit.” He puts the recorder down when he sees Mike enter the room again, breathing heavily. He glances at Eddie sleeping on top of the magazine he was reading earlier and starts speaking louder.

“I was walking home, and I saw a toaster on the bottom of the pit,” Richie smiles when Eddie groans and lifts his head in irritation, “so I was like  _maybe I should get that,_ then I fell in, and now I have two broken legs.”

“Such a tragedy,” whispers Mike, wiping his forehead.

“Why would you want a broken toaster from the pit?” asks Greta, quickly jotting her notes. Mike is envious of her obvious confidence.

“Dude, I don’t know? I was wasted,” says Richie laughing and his head whips to the side when Mike gasps loudly, mouth open in shock.

“W-what? Richie, you were drunk?” asks Ben, tugging on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Totally. You knew that, babe.”

“I didn’t. You were supposed to tell me, I gave you anesthesia at the hospital.”

“Okay, I probably wasn’t really  _thinking_ because I had two broken femurs on top of being, like, blackout drunk-“

Mike reaches out to press pause on the tape recorder, but Greta moves it further from him without looking and continues to feverishly jot down the notes.

“Rich, I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me about this-“

“Like you’re so perfect. You’re on ADD medication, and you drink all the time-“

“What? You’re allowed to do that!”

“Stay on the topic,” says Mike through gritted teeth and stares blankly at the wall in front of him, horrified.

“Wow, Rich, thank you  _so_ much for bringing that up in front of a reporter,” says Ben and moves further away from his boyfriend.

Mike stands up and quickly goes back to his office, putting his head on the table as soon as his ass hits the chair. He can hear someone shuffle in and he knows it’s Ben before he starts speaking. He can feel a large hand on his shoulder, and he instantly feels himself calm down, even if the tiniest bit.

“Mike, it’s not that bad, right? Do you want me to go talk to her?” He can hear the sound of crutches and knows that Richie followed them to the office.

Mike lifts his head and looks at Ben sympathetically. “Oh, Ben. You’re so sweet and innocent and pretty. The press are basically sharks, and you guys just threw a bucket of bloody parts in the water.”

*

“Eddie, let me ask you something,” says Lucas, getting himself a cold cup from the water cooler. “Do you think I’m in top five good-looking guys in Pawnee?”

“No,” says Eddie without lifting his head from the magazine.

“Do you think Mike’s got me beat?”

“Lucas!” bellows Jim from the doorway of his office, cradling his cup of coffee. “You suck at Scrabble.”

“I know, right? You’re the pro.”

“You’re worse than my ex-wife, and  _she_ is the absolute worst at Scrabble.” He takes a sip of the drink. “And, she’s a bitch.”

“Ah, whatever. I’ll get better and beat you some-“

“I doubt that. Her name is Diane Hopper, and she is a  _serious_ bitch _.”_

_*_

Mike is already busy typing out an email to send Greta when she leaves the building. He knows this interview isn’t going to end well for him, and he’s already looking for a strategy to get out of the predicament. Mike is halfway done with the well-written letter when Ms. Bowie knocks on his door.

“You got a second?”

Mike instantly straightens in his chair, agitated. “Uh, sure.”

“I really have to head back to the office, but I didn’t get a chance to speak with you. Do you want to meet tomorrow morning at the pit? I think there’s still plenty to discuss?”

Mike stares at Greta dumbfounded for several seconds, but then finally recovers, his heart beating unbelievably fast. “Of course! I’ll see you then.”

“Alright. Bye!” calls out Greta, already typing something on her phone.

*

Mike arrives at the pit extra early to make sure that he’s mentally prepared for Bowie’s questions. He’s been on edge lately because of this project expanding to a size he couldn’t control, which turned out to be a much bigger deal than he anticipated. He is about to dive into the depths of the pit once again when he hears the sound of tires on gravel and notices a taxi pulling up. Mike moves closer and sees Greta getting out of the vehicle, wobbling in her heels on the uneven surface.

“Sorry I’m late!” exclaims Ms. Bowie as she struggles to make her way to Mike.

“That’s alright.”

Greta’s blonde hair looks messy, and her lipstick is smudged as if she slept with her makeup on. “Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?”

Mike’s eyes can probably roll out of their sockets any second now. “Sorry, no.”

She nervously rummages through her purse, some of the contents spilling out on the gravel. Mike bends down to get them, but she beats him to it.  _I can’t believe my first interview is with such an unprofessional person. I’m fucking grateful I got to to the re-do but, Jesus, who wears the same dress the next day? AND, she’s late. I need this park, and I won’t let her ruin this._

“So, how big is this lot?” asks Greta with a black eyeliner in hand and a crumpled piece of paper that’s apparently her notebook now.

“How big is  _what?_ I don’t know,  _Greta,_ you tell me.”

“I don’t-“

“A hundred or something, I don’t know-“

“A hundred what?”

“I don’t know,  _Greta Bowie_ , I don’t know.”

“Are you okay?”  _Fuck this. This project means too much to me to deal with her rendezvous._

“I have to get something from my car.” Mike swiftly walks towards his Prius, locks the door and lowers the seat to a lying position. He has to take five minutes of long breaths before he musters up the courage to go back to the pit. He grabs the sunglasses from his glove compartment to make sure his cover isn’t blown. Mike stands closer to the edge again and avoids Greta’s penetrating eyeliner-smudged stare.

“So, how did you end up at the Parks and Recreation department?”

“A couple of years ago my father got me the job. It wasn’t nepotism or anything, I  _was_ actually qualified,” Mike looks down at his feet in disappointment in his own blabber mouth, “crap on a stick, technically it was ne-“ He stops midway when he sees Greta shamelessly yawning in the middle of the interview, so much that the black eyeliner she was writing with falls back on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m exhausted.”

Mike sighs loudly and throws his head back. Everyone knows that Greta Bowie is sort of a loose girl. But she is the best reporter in town and typically stays professional. Mike’s disappointment peaks and he leaves on account of a stomach ache, running towards Ben’s backyard which is just a minute away from where the interview was. He starts knocking on the screen door loudly, and within half a minute Ben pops up.

“Hey! You’re home.”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Well, I was doing the interview at the pit, and it was going super well, but I left in the middle of it because it was going  _too_ well, you know what I mean?”

“Right.”

“Can I come in?”

Ben seems to hesitate for a second, his face concerned and slightly surprised. “Sure.”

Mike confidently walks straight to the kitchen, waving to Richie who’s playing Wii on the couch, just like he always does. He sits down on the kitchen table, face in his hands.

“Well, how did it go? Did she ask about Richie being drunk?” asks Ben from the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs.

“No, just standard questions. But there was one annoying thing where she showed up looking like a complete trainwreck, in the same dress form last night, and smudged makeup and everything.”

“What? Really? That’s kind of unprofessional.”

“Right? She didn’t even have the recording device  _or_ a piece of paper. It’s like, I spend so much time worrying about us not getting the approval for this pit, and now she can’t even write a sensible article.”

Ben sits down on the table and places a mug in front of his friend. “I’m sorry, Mike. This really stinks. I wish she took this more seriously. I don’t think she understands what’s at stake.”

“I  _know_ she doesn’t. I’ve heard things about her but she was so nice when we met, I didn’t really question it.”

“I know what you mean.” Ben smiles encouragingly and clinks their mugs together. They spend the rest of the afternoon playing Wii with Richie, making pancakes, and putting a puzzle together.  

*

Lucas walks into his office and sees Eddie sitting at his desk, nervously biting his lip. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie looks up and smiles mischievously, swiveling away from the computer. “Kicking Jim’s butt in Scrabble. I just played ‘Lexicons’. He’s going  _down.”_

Lucas looks horrified from where he stands on the threshold of the doorway. “No, no, no, no, no!” He runs up to Eddie and pushes the chair out of the way.

“What?”

“I was letting him win, you dumbass.” Lucas shoves Eddie out of the chair and sits down to check the score.

“Whatever.”

“C’mon. Lateral? Communal?  _Zonal?_ A ‘Z’? Are you fucking kidding me? Eddie!” Lucas turns around to scream some more, but Eddie already exited the room, laughing on his way to the water cooler. Lucas swears he heard the boy say ‘kissass’.

Mike enters the office and instantly plops into the chair, irritation, and disappointment filling the room. Lucas notices the tension right away and stares at Mike incredulously. The other quickly grabs the phone and punches in a number.

_“Greta Bowie speaking.”_

“Hi, this is the deputy director of Parks and Recreation-“

_“Mike?”_

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi-“

“I accidentally ate an old burrito.”

_“What?”_

“I was acting very strange yesterday, and it’s simply because I had food poisoning from that burrito. So… I was hoping we could have a redo of the interview over lunch? I’m buying.”

_“Sure, I guess I’m free. I assume we won’t be eating Mexican.”_

“Why?”

_“Because of your burrito?”_

“Oh,” Mike laughs whole-heartedly at his own stupidity. “Well, it wasn’t a Mexican burrito.”

*

“Are you sure that’s the best thing to eat right now? asks Greta, pointing at the large stack of waffles sitting in front of Mike, whipped cream a tall tower on top. They decide to go to JJ’s diner after all since it’s Mike’s favorite place in town.  _Since waffles is a sensible food choice for a grown man._

“What do you mean? It’s the best thing on the menu.” Mike takes a sip of coffee and sighs in frustration. “Look, I feel like I acted oddly at the pit, and I wanted to apologize.”

“Yeah, you were kind of weird.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say  _weird._ Look, we’re just trying to turn this eyesore into a beautiful community park, and your positive article could really help us out.”

Greta smiles slightly and nods. “Okay. Let me ask you a little more questions then. What are the odds that the park is actually going to get made?”

“A hundred percent? I’d be lying if I said I have doubts.”

“Wow, you’re a  _lot_ more confident than your coworkers. Do you want to hear some of these quotes?”

Mike shifts in his seat, growing slightly uncomfortable, and his appetite is no longer present. “Sure.”

“ _The Sullivan Street pit is always going to be a pit.”_

“Well, duh, until we turn it into a park.” Mike starts cutting into the waffles to distract himself.

“ _Hey, you should write an article about unicorns since they’re more likely to exist than this park.”_

Mike laughs nervously, waffle falling out of his mouth. “Tell that to a fourteen-year-old girl.”

“ _You should write an article on the Pope getting married because that’s more likely to happen than this park.”_

“There are some counties where the Pope can be married,” says Mike, stuffing an abnormally large waffle piece in his mouth, the fork shaking slightly.

“ _You should write an article about the sun falling out of the sky-“_

“Why would you write an article about that-“

“ _This park is never, ever, ever, ever going to happen.”_

Something about that specific sentence is simply too much for Mike. He slumps in the seat and admits the defeating tightness in his chest, hoping that whatever people said isn’t going to affect that building of the park that much. But it’s mostly wishful thinking.

*

“Jim Hoppaaaaaaaaar,” sings Lucas when he sees his boss step out of the office.

Jim turns around and comes up to the table where Sinclair is eating some yogurt, and Hopper is clearly frustrated.

“Lucas.”

Young man sighs in defeat and puts the food down. “Look, Jim, I don’t know what to tell you, man. Eddie was on my computer, and the game was already open. It was all him, I didn’t touch it. I don’t even know what lexicons are, I thought it was a luxury vehicle. You’re the word king! And Eddie was obviously cheating,” says Lucas quickly, nervously throwing his hands around.

“I knew it couldn’t have been you. You don’t even have the vocabulary,” says Jim smirking.

“I know-“

“You can’t even spell vocabulary.”

“Uh, yeah. V-O-G-X— Ugh! Was that right?”

Jim steps back to his office, smiling. “We’re cool.”

*

“Okay, Jim, listen to this.” Mike saunters into his boss’ office with the newspaper in hand.

“I don’t ca-“

“ _An abandoned lot on Sullivan Street has been proposed as the site of a new park._ That’s good. But then it gets a little unpleasant. Da-da-da.  _Ben has ADD… Pretty drunk…._ I didn’t  _throw_ up, I spit up. JJ’s diner got a nice ad here. Oh!  _We’ll see.”_

“Mike, this article is  _not_ good-“

“It ends on a hopeful note, Jim. That’s all I need.” Mike puts the newspaper in front of his boss and leaves the office with a wide smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I removed Mark Brendenoclutzshmutzwhatever because I really don't like his character and I didn't even want to write him in here LOL
> 
> hope you enjoyed this utter mess <3


	4. The Basket

“Babe, I have a double shift today so I won’t see you until tomorrow,” says Ben, feverishly stuffing things into his duffel bag, and simultaneously trying to put on a sweater.

“Alright. I have dinner, no worries!” says Richie, picking up a pack of Cheerios without looking up from the TV.

“Oh God. Rich that’s not food. And…can you please try to clean up a little?” Ben comes up to stand by his boyfriend, and he sees Richie’s face fall a little, and he pauses the game to look up, running a hand through greasy black hair.

“I-I’ll try, okay? Just don’t expect much.” Richie reaches out to take Ben’s hand and kisses his knuckles.

Ben blushes and pats his boyfriend’s head affectionately. “Alright, well, I’ll finish up whatever you’re not going to get to.”

“Okay.” Richie gives him a small smile and Ben walks out the door in haste.

As soon as his boyfriend makes an exit, Richie feels a wave of guilt wash over him. All Ben does is take care of him and he  _never_ gives back. So Richie decides to wobble towards the bedroom, take out a piece of paper and write down a list of chores for himself. Taking a double doze of the prescribed painkillers, he starts by taking care of the area where he seems to spend most of his time - the living room, removing of the dirty dishes, empty packs of chips, multiple itch sticks, vacant beer bottles. Richie pushes all of it into a garbage bag and places one filled to the brim right outside the front door to put into the large bins later.

With no proper knowledge for the use of the vacuum cleaner, Richie simply throws the couch cushions on the floor and vacuums on top of them and the emptiness on the seating area. He discovers a lot of lost items under the sofa, and plenty more candy wrappers. After he’s completely done with all the trash in the house, he takes the garbage bags out and throws them into a pit, waving to one of the cross-street neighbors doing the same. Richie then finishes a sink full of dishes and checks the fridge for expired items.

After completing the chores inside the house, Richie blows up a kid pool he found in the garage and fills it with the water from the hose, squeezing an entire bottle of Ben’s shampoo. He remembers that Went used to wash his dog Rosco in a similar fashion, and since he can’t really get into the shower, that’s the only way he can think of getting himself fully clean. He puts two garbage bags on each leg and wraps the scotch tape under and around the knee generously. Richie runs inside the house to get one last thing - the old boombox he had since he was a kid, covered in stickers and other teenage memorabilia. He inserts the latest  _Three Skin_ CD, puts on a song he wrote to Ben at the beginning of the year and strips all of his clothes before stepping into a rather chilly pool. Richie decides to throw the clothes in too for good measure, arguing that he might be just about done with the chores for today, and laundry is simply pushing it.

Just as he starts to sing along to the lyrics he hears the back door creak loudly, and he’s too comfortable to crane his neck to see, but he already knows it’s Lawrence. That complete asshole of a neighbor who  _never_ wants to leave him alone. Naturally, his neighbor places himself right in front of the pool with a solemn expression on his face, and all Richie can think of is that the guy’s entire outfit is in earth tones.

“Turn it down.”

“No, I wrote that song.”

“Do I look like I give a shit? Turn it down.”

“I’m not going to turn it down. What are you even doing- HEY!”

Lawrence grabs the boombox and makes a beeline towards the fence door that connects their backyards.

“You give me my boombox back right now!”

“IT’S MY BOOMBOX NOW, I ASKED YOU NICELY!”

Richie sits up on the pool, utterly flabbergasted. “You did  _not_ ask me nicely, you asshole! I just put twelve new batteries in that thing!”  _Shit._

Richie rolls backwards to get out of the pool but quickly lands on his back without crutches. When he finally manages to hold onto the side of the house to get them, he goes wobbling after Lawrence at the highest speed possible, clothes forgotten.

* * *

“Hey, Lucas! Look w-what we got,” says Bill, walking into the office with a large neatly wrapped basket. He puts it on the table in front of his coworker, admiring the massive red bow.

“Whoa, mama.” Lucas reads the label that says  _Neibolt Construction_  and rolls his eyes.  _Suck ups._

“I l-love Chardonnay,” says Bill sighing dreamily, and bends down to look at what else is inside.

“You can have the wine. I want to take that cheese and do terrible things to it,” says Lucas, boring a hole through the yellowish square hiding behind the bottle.

Bill starts unpacking the package and only stops when he feels Mike’s hand slap the top of his from going further. “No, no, no, no! Bill, don’t you remember? We can’t accept anything above twenty-five dollars for corruption reasons, c’mon, man.”

“W-what makes you-“

“I have to go drive all the way to Portland if I want to buy a film with nudity in it. We’re public servants.” Mike picks up the basket and has to stretch his neck back when the purple tie gets stuck under it. He stumbles towards his office, opening the door with the heel of his shoe, and places the gift under the desk, careful not to distress it.

Soon after he sits down, he sees Ben make his way into the department, and Mike instantly lights up from the brightness in his friend’s eyes amplified by a dark-turquoise sweater. “Hey, Mike.”

“Ben! Thanks for coming. We were thinking of making a social network where we could post updates about the park. Something like a page on Facebook? That seems to be the place everyone goes to these days.” Mike gestures for Ben to stand next to him as he shows him the open page on the computer. “EDDIE!”

The boy irritably makes his way into the office and rolls Lucas’ chair to sit by Mike, and when his boss refuses to move, Eddie simply pushes the chair with his, getting closer to the keyboard with a blank expression. He rolls the sleeves on his flannel and opens the Facebook dashboard.

“Can we cut this red ribbon, or do you like want me to sit here and wait for you to do it?” asks Eddie, nodding towards the little bow in the middle of the screen.

“Oh, right. Sure,” says Mike, grabbing the scissors from the cup on his desk, and cuts the strip straight in the middle. “Eddie, that’s really great. Look at all the kids!” Mike points at the folder filled with pictures of children in one of the community parks.

“Oh, look! The Pit has six friends already,” says Ben, pointing at the numbered list on the right side.

Eddie clicks on the new tab and enters the youtube.com, opening a horror claymation video. He doesn’t even look up at Mike and leans back in the chair, grabbing a Sharpie from the pen cup.

“Alright, well, we have things to do, so Eddie, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” says Mike as he grabs his briefcase from under the table. He stops in the doorway to observe Eddie draw shapes with the Sharpie on top of the white jeans. Mike shakes his head and exits the department.

* * *

“ _Doing a little experiment tonight to see what will get me drunker, drinking wine or-“_

Mike didn’t know what to expect to see when he makes it back to the office the next day but it was  _definitely_ not that. He stands in front of the computer in pure shock, already violently sweating through the button-down. There, on the video in the middle of The Pit’s Facebook page is Eddie, smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, and a Sharpie-drawn Wicca symbol in his cheek. His hair is disheveled, cheeks pink and he is drinking wine straight from the bottle. Sitting behind Mike’s desk. He can tell because Obama’s portrait is in the background, just like it is in Mike’s office. It is the highest level of a nightmare.

_“Right now drinking wine is winning-“_

“God, Eddie, why would you do this?” Eddie is sitting on Lucas’ table, completely unaware of the damage he’s done, smiling mischievously at the image of himself chugging some Merlot.

“Um, because I was bored and my hair looked really good. That basket was right under the table,” he says without so much as looking at Mike.

“You have to take this down. I just sent a mass email linking to this page to promote our cause.”

“C’mon, play it again, Bill,” says Lucas, laughing at Mike’s horror-stricken expression.

“You g-gah-got it.”

Before Bill gets to so much as touch the mouse Jim makes his way out of the office, his lips pursed so much that they are invisible under the luscious mustache. “Michael.” He instantly turns and walks back into his office.

Mike puts his briefcase on top of his table and walks towards Hopper’s office, placing himself in front of the boss’ desk.

“Mike, he is nineteen years old. I thought I told you to contain this entire pit situation because a  _lot_ is at stake here.”

“Yes, I-“

“The Disciplinary Committee is having a hearing later today, and you’re going to have to testify.” Jim crosses his arms and leans back in the chair, brows furrowed and eyes icy cold.

“Oh, no-“ Mike is starting to feel nausea creeping up his throat, his head consistently changing its mind about being too heavy and too light. He starts stumbling towards the closest wall.

“Eddie might get dismissed. You could get fired.”

“Oh my god. Oh god. Oh no. Oh god.” The backs of Mike’s knees bump into the bench that stands by the wall of Jim’s office, and he sinks into it, falling onto the side, letting his shoulder feel the hardness of the seat. “This bench is so uncomfortable. Help, Jim. Help! Tell me it’s gonna be okay. Jim! Tell me it’s gonna be okay.” Mike feels himself madly hyperventilating now, and he doesn’t know how to calm down.

Hopper stands up and awkwardly pats Mike on the shoulder as he flails sideways on the dark wooden bench. “It’s..uh..hang in-“ As soon as Mike reaches a hand out, Jim pulls back and leans against his desk awkwardly. “-you’re uh, you’re okay.”

The next couple of hours are an epitome of a nightmare. Mike hasn’t worked at all, and he has to dry off his suit in the bathroom because of the forming sweat stains. His head is throbbing, and the coffee is producing the complete opposite of comfort. Mike rubs his face and temples in a desperate attempt to gain some composure, but it doesn’t seem to help. The distraction appears in the face of Lucas who rolls his chair to place himself in front of Mike’s desk.

“You ready for the hearing?”

“No, not at all.” Mike pushes the coffee cup away and lets his head fall into a sweaty palm.

“Do you want me to run some practice questions with you? Maybe help you prepare?”

“Sure.”

Lucas leans back in his chair and grabs one of the notebooks on Mike’s desk to take pretend-notes. “Mr. Hanlon, you are accused of leaving an intern in charge of the department and allowing a minor to consume an alcoholic substance on government premises. How many drinks do you have a week on average?”

“Zero.” Lucas raises an eyebrow judgmentally. “Well, zero to six.”

“I’m going to write down ten,” mutters Lucas, writing scribbles.

“Yeah,” whispers Mike sighing.

“Do you ever cheat on your taxes?”

“No, never!” Mike straightens up and sits more erect, suddenly intrigued by Lucas’ enthusiasm.

“Hey, you’re doing great. Alright. How many sexual partners have you had in the past year?”

“You think they’ll ask something like that?”

“You never know, nothing is off-limits to them. Now, Mr. Hanlon, how many sexual partners have you had in the past year?”

“Zero to six.”

“Zero. Have you ever thought about Jim sexually?”

“What-“

“Have you ever had a sexual dream about Jim Hopper?”

Mike looks horrified, and his voice comes out borderline hysterical. “Absolutely not, no-“

“Yes,” says Lucas, scribbling something down.

“No-“

“Now in this recurring dream you have about Jim, is he a furry, half-furry, a merman?”

“What-“

“Is he wearing a baseball uniform? Are you making love to him in the field of flowers on a couch shaped like his mustache?”

“Okay, no, time-out-“ Mike’s forehead is covered in sweat, and he aggressively throws his arms around.

“This committee doesn’t do time-outs, Mr. Hanlon! Answer the questions!”

“I need something to drink,” says Mike, unbuttoning his blazer.

“How about some wine with a minor?!” screams Lucas, leaning on the table.

“I meant water.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Hanlon. You’re fired.” Mike’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. Lucas stands up and pushes his chair back. “So this is your worst case scenario, you know?”

When Mike later walks towards the meeting with Jim, he is suddenly very aware of their proximity but also infinitely grateful that he’s there. Mike’s not sure he could possibly do this alone.

“Thank you so much for coming with me.” He is pacing in the waiting room, and Jim distractedly scrolls through his phone.

“I’m a department head, I have to be.”  

They’re called into the room much sooner than Mike would’ve liked it, and the moment he sits in front of three stern middle-aged men, Mike instantly regrets applying for the job in the first place.

“Mr. Hanlon, you’re here because you allegedly accepted a gift of over twenty-five dollars, and contributed to the delinquency of a minor. Can you tell us what happened?”

“May I have a glass of water first?” The man nods and Mike instantly reaches for the glass standing on a black tray in the middle of the table, but his nervousness betrays him, and he knocks the whole row down. After putting it all back in place, he shakily pours some of it into the cup and gulps everything down. Mike then takes the briefcase from the chair next to him and pulls out a folder full of neatly typed notes, but the paper flutters in his hands.

“Two days ago, my department received a gift basket from a well-known local construction company. Awash in the glow of attention, I made a very unwise decision to leave it in my office in an indication that it was accepted by the department. This decision will live in infamy. The basket was already halfway open, and our intern, Edward Kaspbrak, drank some of the wine without my knowledge.”

“But you  _did_ open the basket. And the intern  _did_ drink some of the wine,” says the exceptionally unpleasant man sitting right in front of Mike, his mustard yellow blazer making Hanlon’s eyes hurt.

“Don’t blame him for my mistakes!” exclaims Mike, slamming his fist on the table. Upon seeing the other people’s rather startled faces, he clears his throat and sits back a bit. “The biggest crime we can commit here would be to destroy the teenage boy’s passion for local government.”

“Mr. Hanlon, what was the first thing you did when you arrived at work the next day? Could you give us a detailed timeline?”

“Of course. I awoke at six twenty-one in the morning after a fitful night of sleep-“

“Okay, what do you guys possibly want him to do?” suddenly asks Jim, half-groaning and rubbing his face in irritation.

“Well, we don’t know yet. We have a lot more questions ahead.”

Jim groans louder now and clenches his hands together.

“Jim, it’s okay-“ Mike reaches to place a comforting hand on his boss’ shoulder.

Hopper flinches away from the gentle touch, like he always does, and resumes to get even more riled up. “No, it’s not okay. This is not communist China. You cannot make him whip himself. You cannot make him wear a hair shirt.” Mike feels a sudden surge of raw gratitude wash over him, and he can’t help but crack a smile.

“We weren’t planning on doing either of those thin-“

“This is America! You want to live in North Korea? Go live in North Korea.  _I_ don’t want to. I want to live in America! Mike has never broken a rule in his life to the point that it’s annoying. If you want to slap him on the wrist, go ahead. You planning on doing anything more serious? You’re going to have to go through me. Let’s go.”

“We’re done?” asks Mike, his eyes jumping between the three shocked men and red-faced Jim.

Hopper promptly stands up from the chair without pushing it in. “We’re done. Let’s go.”

Mike stands up too, grabs his things struggling to mask a gleeful grin spreading across his face. They make their way back to Hopper’s office, and the boss frustratingly sits down on the letter chair. Mike stands in front of the desk again because his nervousness isn’t letting him relax enough to take a seat.

“After this, you should only expect to get a letter in your file. That’s it.”

“Jim, I just wanted to thank y-“

Jim raises a hand a closes his eyes in an unshakable demeanor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mike smiles warmly, and he can see the corners of Hopper’s mouth jump slightly but he doesn’t comment on it, and instead sits down behind his own desk and instantly texts Ben who shows up in less thank half an hour.

“Hi, I got here as soon as my shift ended. How did it go?” asks Ben huffing and puffing, giving Mike a quick hug.

“I don’t want to be overdramatic but today felt like a hundred years in hell and the absolute worst day of my life.”

“Oh god, Mike. I’m so sorry.” He places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Mike’s slight smile feels like a win. “I haven’t slept in more than a day but do you want to go out tomorrow? Take your mind off things?”

Mike places a hand on top of Ben’s and smiles wide. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

* * *

Ben finally makes it back home an hour later, his muscles aching from standing for so long, and head heavy from lack of sleep and abnormal amounts of caffeine. But as soon as he opens the door, he registers the impeccably clean living room area and walking further notices the pleasant smell of freshly cooked food. And there, in the middle of the kitchen stands Richie, his hair tied back in a ponytail, freshly ironed button-down rolled at the elbows but torn track pants on the bottom. And somehow, that’s still incredibly endearing, and Ben feels his heart swell with affection.

“What do you think?”

“Rich, this is so sweet.” Ben walk closer to the kitchen, dropping his duffel bag on the sofa and instantly notices a scrape on his boyfriend’s cheek. He cradles his jaw and rotates it to the light source. “What happened?”

“Eh, I was chasing this jag-weed neighbor and fell in some prickly bushes. Doesn’t matter. What do you think of the house?” Richie points one of his crutches to the rest of the clean area.

“I love it,” says Ben sweetly and leans in to give Richie a soft kiss. “Baby, sit down, I’ll look after your scratches.”

Richie carefully sits down behind the dinner table set with candles and wine and leans the crutches against the side. “Does this mean I’m getting gently laid tonight?”

“Richie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I decided to make some changes, and I'm probably going to edit the first couple of chapters before this gets updated again /   
> nothing major! just details I've noticed and felt were mega cringey
> 
> hope you still like this garbage fic LOL


	5. Rock Show

Richie is clutching onto Ben’s hand for dear life, but his boyfriend tries to keep his composure and show support. It’s finally the day when Richie is getting his casts off, and Ben could not  _possibly_ get more excited. He’s trying his hardest to hide it, worried that people might think he’s only happy for his benefit. Which?  _Not far from the truth._

The doctor carefully drags the drill down the outside of Richie’s leg, effectively separating the cast in two nearly perfect halves. As soon as the drill is placed on the adjacent cart, the top gets taken off and both Mike and Lucas, who insisted on being there for the very important event, cringe visibly at the image. The amount of dirt and random memorabilia collected under the cast is unbelievable: anything from a half-eaten lollipop to a broken plastic fork, and even a long lost iPod.

“Wow, this looks just like a sweaty piñata,” says Lucas, trying to get closer to the bed to look at the rest of the thing collected on Richie’s hairy thigh.

“How do y-“

“Hey, that’s my iPod!” exclaims Ben, peeling the small device off his boyfriend’s skin.

“And my pirate!” Richie lifts a small figurine of a pirate and instantly starts walking him along his other, now clean and bare, leg.

“Doctor, could I please keep that cast?” asks Mike, reaching for the yellowed half now lying close to the sink.

The doctor looks at him incredulously but doesn’t seem to object. “That’s a rather disgusting request, but I don’t see why not.” He hands Mike the cast, and the other happily twirls it in his hands, thinking that this is one of the most important symbols of their project.

Richie accidentally drops the pirate and starts scooting down the examination chair to get it. The doctor is cautiously eyeing him but doesn’t do anything to stop the inevitable - as soon as Richie’s feet hit the floor, his knees buckle, and he falls, wailing at the pain in his shoulder. The doctor makes no move to help him up while Ben instantly rushes to his side.

“His legs might be a little weak at first,” says the doctor in response to Ben’s glare.

* * *

They gather in a courtyard of the City Hall building several days later to check on Richie’s progress. Ben and Richie come in to greet everyone and to announce some news.

“Hey! Ben is talking. Everyone shut up,” says Mike when Ben tries to talk over the screaming contest between Eddie and Lucas.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for the support. It’s been very difficult to manage everything since Richie fell in and you guys are doing more than I could ever expect. So thanks.” Ben smiles sweetly and small applause erupts, scaring a couple of pigeons sitting on the ground.

“You’re welcome, Ben,” says Lucas reaching out to squeeze the man’s shoulder but Ben quickly hides behind Richie who starts talking.

“Hey, um, are you gonna tell them about the show?” asks Richie, nuzzling into Ben’s neck.

“Right!” exclaims Ben, pushing Richie’s face away. “Richie’s band has a show coming up, and we all want you to be there. If you want, of course.”

“‘Course they do, babe. Who wouldn’t?” says Richie, sticking out his tongue playfully and holds it between his teeth. “Just warning you, come early because the seats will be taken  _very_ quickly.”

They end up eating a cake that looks like a small park with a slide, a swing, and a small Richie-looking man standing in the corner. But just as Eddie is the last to grab a slice, a pigeon sits down smack dab in the middle, and the small boy runs away flailing his arms and screaming obscenities at the bird.

“What kind of music do you guys play?” asks Lucas, snorting at the image of Eddie glaring at the pigeons from where he stands by the window, already inside the building.

“I don’t really like to define it but something like  _Fray?”_

“So…rock?”

“Again, I don’t like to define it,” says Richie, stuffing the whole piece of cake in his mouth.

“So when is the show?” asks Mike, sipping on his third cup of coffee before midday.

Ben quickly swallows the cake to answer. “Oh, tonight at eight.”

“What?! Oh man, I won’t be able to make it!”

“Why not?” There is an obvious disappointment in Ben’s voice, and it makes Mike feel a gazillion times worse about it.

“My dad set up this meeting with the local VIP. I really have to go, he’s been planning that for  _months.”_

“You really not gonna go?” asks Lucas, reaching for the corner of the cake that wasn’t touched by the bird.

“Ugh, you guys know how much I love mixing work with personal life, but this meeting is very important, especially for this park.”

“Just blow off the meeting, come with us,” says Ben, pouting playfully.

Mike groans and throws his head back in frustration. “I really want to go to the damn concert, but I really need to make it to the meeting. But I’ll meet all of you afterwards, yeah?” He puts a fist out to bump Ben, but Richie beats him to it, grinning ear to ear.

* * *

Ben has to work later in the day, and he catches sight of Richie’s doctor closer to the end of his shift. In hopes of inviting him to the concert and thanking for taking care of his boyfriend, Ben quickly jogs to where the doctor is standing.

“Dr. Owens, hi. Richie’s band is playing at a bar later tonight if you want to swing by.” Ben hands him one of the flyers he’s been distributing all over the hospital.

The doctor looks at the piece of paper with a blank expression. “Is Richie doing well?”

Ben instantly beams, feeling pride swell in his chest to how quickly his boyfriend recovered. “Yeah! He’s a little shaky, but that was expected.”

“I mean, not really. If he got his cast removed two weeks ago, the muscles wouldn’t have atrophied so much.”

Ben feels his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. “I’m sorry, did you say two weeks ago?”

“That’s when they were scheduled to come off.”

“B-but he told me that you said he should wait.”

“No, he rescheduled. Said it was personal and that he’d explain later-“

“I have waited on him for  _two months_ ,” says Ben, feeling the pride getting replaced with white-hot anger.

“Oh, I guess that explains it,” says Dr. Owens and chuckles, which only amplifies Ben’s bitter taste of betrayal.

* * *

“I see you’ve already heard about our plans for the park in a residential lot. So, of course, we’re going to need the approval for the zoning codes,” says Mike, jotting down the notes on top of the little bread plate sitting at the edge of the table. The restaurant chosen for a meeting was a lot fancier than he anticipated and he had to wear his favorite button-down: baby pink with a purple tie.

“So, what kind of movies do you like?”

The question startles Mike.  _That’s not very professional._ The elderly lady even leans forward a bit, clearly enthusiastic for an answer.

“Um…documentaries? Political thrillers. Stuff like that.”

“I like all kinds of movies.”

“Cool?” asks Mike in confusion and decides to quickly change the subject. “I brought some pictures of the lot so you can see that the houses are pretty close to it. How difficult is rezoning in Bangor?”

“It’s refreshing to be with someone who likes talking about governmental issues,” says the woman chuckling as she grabs the photos. “Most of the men I date find it boring.”

“W-well, you know, we have to have those zoning codes. It’s pretty impossible to proceed without them.”

“Your dad mentioned that you don’t date much,” says the woman, putting the photos down, staring at Mike intently.

“What?”  _What is happening?_ “I’ve been…focusing on my career? Why do you ask?”

“I haven’t been dating much either since my divorce. Hasn’t been easy! I’m doing better, but it was difficult for my kids  _and_ their kids. Oh, I shouldn’t have brought up my divorce on the first date.” The woman reaches out to place her hand on top of Mike’s. “But I feel like I can tell you anything.”

“Excuse me for a second,” says Mike retrieving his hand.

He goes outside of the restaurant and instantly dials his dad’s number.

_“Hello?”_

“Dad. She thinks we’re on a date. Did you tell her that we are?”

_“Mikey, if I told you it was a date, you would never go! You’re not getting any younger, you know.”_

“Neither is she! She is at  _least_ sixty-five years old!”

_“Just go back there and finish the dinner. You don’t have to sleep with her if you don’t want to.”_

“What?! Dad, are you crazy? I’m gay,  _and_ she’s ancient.”

Mike quickly hangs up the phone before his dad starts going off about him having children again. Will has never been opposed to his son’s sexuality, but conversations about grandchildren have always been on the tip of his tongue. How Mike could  _have_  children with an elderly woman continues to be a mystery.  _My dad is a lunatic._ He sits back down at the table, and the woman instantly goes into a story about  _her_ kids, pulling out a wallet with pictures. Mike finishes the whole glass of wine sitting in front of him.

“This is my oldest son - a pretty no-nonsense person like you. And this is the youngest! He’s about your age.”

_Jesus._ “Terrific. Do you think you could give me any answers in regards to the zoning questions?”

“C’mon, Mike! No business talk here. Let’s have some fun.” The woman picks up a fork with some of her food and extends it towards Mike. “Have some of my chicken.”

“Oh, no-“

“Just an itty bitty taste.”

Mike closes his eyes and breathes in deep before inching towards the fork.

When they’re awaiting the check, Mike opens the phone to check the time and messages. He sees a text from Ben that he’s already at the bar, and a selfie of Lucas with some random woman he’s never seen. Just as he’s about to dial Ben, the woman interrupts him.

“What kind of movies do you like?”

“You already asked me that,” says Mike, smiling sympathetically. He really doesn’t want to hurt the woman’s feelings - she obviously had a different interpretation of their evening.

But she just chuckles. “Sorry, senior moment. Am I keeping you from something?” She points to the phone in Mike’s hands.

“Uh…actually, yeah. My friend’s band is playing at the bar tonight, and I promised I’ll be there.”

“I mean, if you want to go to the rock show, I don’t mind.”

“Really? Are you sure?”  _Fuck yeah._

“Of course! I haven’t been to a rock show in a long time.”  _Oh no._

* * *

“What is  _up,_ people of Derry?!” screams Richie, earning some applause throughout the bar. “In just a minute Scarecrow Boat will be rockin’ this place! Please be patient while we set this shit up.”

“Lucas!” bellows Jim, getting close to where Lucas is sitting by the bar. “Wanted to introduce you to Becky, my ex-wife Terry’s better-looking sister.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows, trying to fixate on the swirling whiskey in Jim’s cup rather than the blonde woman next to him. “Nice to meet you.”

Becky extends her hand in return and tries to establish eye contact. “Nice to meet you!”

“My ex-wife Terry cheated on me, then we divorced. Then last week I ran into her sister Becky. Turns out she hates Terry too which is how we started dating. This feels like a fairytale.” He snakes a hand around Becky’s waist.

“Terry stinks,” says the sister and beams at Jim.

“Alright…Since we’re doing intros, I want you to meet my wife too!” Lucas gestures to a tall, attractive woman sitting on a barstool next to him.

“Hello, I’m Wendy.” She waves sweetly, and Jim instantly notices an accent but doesn’t make a comment.

“ _You’re_ Lucas’ wife?” Jim snickers into his whiskey.

“Look at how hot she is!” exclaims Lucas, getting up and literally gesticulating up and down the woman. “ _And_ she’s a surgeon.”

Ben walks into the bar and sees Jim animatedly talking to Lucas, no Mike in sight. He decides to make his way closer to the stage in hopes of catching Richie for a conversation before set, but he’s nowhere to be found. He sees Eddie sit in one of the middle tables, some guy’s arm draped over the back of the boy’s seat. Desperate for some sort of distraction, Ben sits down and forces a smile.

“This is Mike,” says Eddie clutching a suspicious-looking glass of Coke. The ‘Mike’ stares in the direction of the bar distractedly, his pale face blending with the tan and green flannel he’s wearing.

“Cool. How long have you guys been dating?” asks Ben, turning towards the stage every half sentence.

“We’re not. He has a boyfriend. I do make out with him sometimes when I’m drunk though,” says Eddie avoiding eye contact which isn’t unexpected but considering Ben’s mood, irks him to no end.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, you can just say so,” says Ben, the  _everyone is treating me like crap_ feeling intensifying.

Eddie turns and looks him dead in the eye. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Ben stares him down for a second and then notices Richie make his way to the stage. He quickly moves to stand right below his boyfriend who’s adjusting the guitar.

“Richie! We need to talk.”

“Hey, babe! We’re about to start. Can you grab me triple whiskey water?” Richie bends down to look at Ben with the sticky sweet expression that seems to be permanently engraved on his  _stupid face._

Ben huffs in annoyance. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Richie furrows his eyebrows, obviously missing Ben’s tone of voice. “Yup?”

“You have two perfectly good legs. Get it yourself.” Ben turns around and heads straight for the furthest seat by the bar, avoiding looking at Richie entirely. He barely ever gets angry, but it seems like whenever he does, Richie is  _always_ the reason. Not a second after he makes an order, Richie’s voice rings through the old bar and they start playing one of their oldest songs. In a desperate need to relieve the frustration, Ben orders some beer.

After several terribly written songs and one dedicated to Ben where Richie basically sings  _“La-di-da-di-da, Beeeeeeeen”_  softly for three minutes, they get to the part that everyone’s been waiting for. Mike enters the bar just as Richie sings the last two sentences of the song dedicated to his broken legs:  _“I fell into the pit, you fell into the pit, we all fell into the PAAAAEEEEYYAAAAAT!”_

Applause erupts as the drums ring out the last notes and Richie bellows into the microphone: “Thank you, everyone! We are Scarecrow Bo- ah, no, screw it. We are Mouse Rat! Good night.” He wildly shakes his sweaty mop of hair and jumps on top of the bassist standing on his right. Ben gets up from his seat as soon as Richie turns his back to the audience.

“Fuck! I missed it,” says Mike, disappointingly letting his coat fall to the floor by the table where all his friends are sitting.

Lucas turns around from the voice behind him and instantly notices the person Mike brought. “Who’s this, your date?”

“Yes! I’m Barbara,” excitedly answers the woman and extends her hand for Lucas to shake.

Mike cringes at the utter satisfaction on his friend’s face. “Hi, Barbara. I’m Lucas, and this is my wife, Wendy! She is my age.”

Ben finally pushes through the crowd just when Richie starts to casually sip on his beer, excitedly chatting with his bandmates.  _As if he’s_ not  _the biggest jerk in the room._

“Richie, we’re going home,” says Ben, placing himself in front of his boyfriend in determination.

“Babe, I need to debrief with the band. Just one more second-“

“Hey!” Mike runs up to the both of them and beams at Ben, happy that he finally found him.

“Whoaaa, it’s Mike Hanlon!” exclaims Richie, and instantly throws an arm around Mike’s shoulders, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. “This is my band.” He points his beer towards the three members standing in front of them now that Ben stepped back a bit.

“I feel so bad that I missed your songs. Is there any way you could do an encore for me?” asks Mike, subtly batting his lashes.

It seems to work on Richie who instantly screams: “Encore! C’mon, let’s take the stuff out of the bo-“

“Richie, no. We’re going home.” Ben’s face is nothing but pure irritation that Mike doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nooo, don’t leave yet! I just got here.”

Ben ignores Mike and speaks loud a clear: “Richie.”

Richie rolls his eyes and gives Mike a small smile. “Sorry, Mike. Maybe next time.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” says Ben to Mike before taking Richie by the elbow towards the exit.

Mike makes his way back to the table, no more Eddie and Wheeler in sight, only Lucas pointing his finger at the cheek of a sleeping Barbara. “Is she dead or asleep?”

“Lucas!” hisses Mike, slapping the man’s hand away. “Barbara? Barbara!”

She slowly opens her eyes and adjusts her cat-eye glasses. “Oh, would you look at that! Out like a light.”  _Oh, God._ “I should probably head home now. It’s getting very late.”

“Sure,” says Mike and shakes the lady’s hand when she gets up from the table.

_This is the absolute shittiest night I’ve had in a LONG time._

* * *

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Ben!” They’ve been arguing for almost an hour now, just standing and screaming.

“Are you kidding me?! I’ve been playing nurse at home for you for  _months,_ and it was  _exhausting,_ Richie! Exhausting! Because guess what? It’s my job too! And you’re  _not_ a child! You could’ve had your cast removed two weeks ago!” Ben never screamed at Richie. Ben never screamed,  _period._ It’s terrifying and unknown, and Richie doesn’t know what to do in situations like these.

“That’s not true!”

“Are you calling Dr. Owens a liar?”

“Yes?”

Ben starts walking towards the landline. “Alright, why don’t we give him a call then-“

“Yeah, you do that! And get  _me_ on the phone with Dr. Owens!”

Ben starts dialing and crosses his arms in the middle of the kitchen. Richie starts seriously freaking out.

“Well, don’t call him right now!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s late! The man is sleeping, c’mon.”

“Why don’t you want me calling, Richie?” asks Ben again, now holding the phone but not putting it down.

Richie’s face falls, and he throws his hands in the air. “Fine! You want the truth?”

Ben’s eyebrows skyrocket. “Yes.”

“Could I have gotten those casts removed two weeks ago? Yes-“ Ben’s eyes widen, and he puts the phone back down, “-but…I really like it when you serve me food-“

“Get out. Get out of my house,” says Ben sternly, pointing towards the front door, literally pushing at Richie’s chest with his other hand. “Take a breezy walk with your overly healed fucking legs, and let me think about this relationship.” He pushes Richie out the door and locks himself in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't wait for my fav Parks & Rec characters to start making an appearance  
> shit's about to go down (now that Richie screwed up and opened the floodgates of my fav relationships mwahaha)
> 
> tumblr: creamy-brown-eyes


End file.
